I’m standing on a train with about a hundred and twenty people in this one coach. It’s late, it’s slow, it’s packed, it’s hot, it’s smelly and I have some bloke’s bag grabbing my arse every time the train rocks. They charge me two and a half grand a year for the privilege of this. I’m supposed to be rescuing bulbs from the garden right now but there won’t be any light by the time I get home. Which is only good for the cricket …

This entry was posted on Monday, September 12th, 2005 at 6:35 pm by james and is filed under Ramblings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.